Lunch Poem

There’s a mosquito in my room…
It’s a one-sided buffet, on the side of the other guy.

It’s flying around, with a preference for the wall it keeps bumping into.
Better the wall than me, I guess.

I don’t wish for it to bite me.
It already has; it already has multiple times.
Maybe that’s why it’s leaving me alone now—
The sucker’s already full at my expense.

It is a little weird, though:
My knee, my elbow; these don’t seem to me as optimal blood retrieval locations.

To the mosquito in my room…
It’s not too late to leave, to go bother some other guy.